


sits before us, scattered into ash

by karnsteins



Series: cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run [2]
Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Dallas Winston, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual Somnophilia, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Mafia!Dallas Winston, a shift key? i don't know her, dallas winston: still committing crime as an adult, omega ponyboy curtis, ponyboy: local town librarian who pretends not to know, set in the 1970s, they're married for legal reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karnsteins/pseuds/karnsteins
Summary: he tries to be careful whenever he finishes up a job like this: making sure to wash his hands in the sink as much as he can, trying to get the least of it on him as possible. it's never a really perfect science in it all despite the pains he takes to do this. no matter how well he can clean his hands, no matter how much he tries not to stand too close whenever he does it, ponyboy can still smell smoke on dallas when he comes home.
Relationships: Ponyboy Curtis/Dallas Winston
Series: cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969333
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	sits before us, scattered into ash

he tries to be careful whenever he finishes up a job like this: making sure to wash his hands in the sink as much as he can, trying to get the least of it on him as possible. it's never a really perfect science in it all despite the pains he takes to do this. no matter how well he can clean his hands, no matter how much he tries not to stand too close whenever he does it, ponyboy can still smell smoke on dallas when he comes home. 

tonight is no different it seems as dallas shrugs off the coat he wears, putting it on the couch with an easy throw. he can smell the food in the oven that ponyboy has wrapped for him more than he can smell pony himself at the moment, which means he's probably just showered -- and that pony hasn't been home in awhile. he's carrying that library smell he always has now, mixed with marijuana, and dallas wrinkles his nose just a little bit as he lopes his way into the kitchen. 

pony is there, glasses still half sliding off of his nose, the joint he's been smoking in the side, the end stuffed out. his chin is in his palm, squinting at the page in front of him, dinner half eaten, legs tucked up beneath him. dallas takes his time, pulling out the plate from the oven without greeting him, his presence just fine. 

he's all too used to dallas sneaking back in after a job, and dallas doesn't want to pull him from his book just yet as he takes a glance at the glazed, barbeque chicken, the mashed potatoes, and the corn bread pony whipped up. he takes the plate, grabs a can of beer, sets it all on the table, and immediately, ponyboy unfurls a leg to kick at dallas. 

dallas kicks back just hard enough to make his point, grinning. " _helter skelter?_ about those murders in california?" 

"yeah," pony earmarks a page, setting it down, "got asked to review it. not really my kind of thing," he picks up at the cornbread on his own plate, tearing into it, looking curiously at dallas. as usual, he doesn't ask where dallas has been or why, they all know how this goes. "i'll let you read it when i'm done." 

"let me?" dallas challenges back, tearing at the chicken, "you not going to read it to me? i'm hurt." 

ponyboy gives him a petulant look as he takes another bite of the cornbread, "nope. we're finishing _i know what you did last summer_ , we've been stuck for ages. and you promised we'd get to it soon, and i think tonight is soon enough." when dallas gives him the finger, pony reaches over to grab his beer, taking a pull before dallas can do so with a smug look. 

later, dallas will make sure he pays for that. 

for now, he works at his plate ravenously, hungry after a job like that. he finishes easily, and without asking, grabs ponyboy's finally clean plate. both of them get dumped in the sink to finish later. he doesn't have to turn around to go to ponyboy's chair for once, instead ponyboy coming up to kiss the corner of dallas' mouth. it's about the longest they've really waited this week, dallas turning his head easily to catch ponyboy's mouth in a fuller, greedy kiss. this is the real coming home conversation between them, dallas leaning down, ponyboy leaning up, noses bumping, and their mouths seeking each other in a way that never quite matched anything else in the way that it felt so completely real. 

he inhales that smell that's always been uniquely pony, that reminds him of tulsa, of ponyboy's fingers running over books, that bit of sweetness that always marked him as an omega -- yet not one of those that seemed cloying and overwhelming. all these years and there was something about pony that wasn't quite like others, and dallas feels a part of himself settle more, breathing it in. 

on automatic, his hand reaches up, to touch pony's cheek--

\--and that's the moment. that's when he knows that pony scents it, the smell of accelerant and smoke. he knows it with how fast ponyboy pulls back, flinching away. never, never does it ever seem that after an arson job, does it seem that dallas ever gets the smell completely off of him, completely away. making other people flinch, making them upset like this wouldn't really bother him except it's _ponyboy_.

he lets go, and ponyboy stumbles just enough out of reach to breathe clean, better air. there's no blame in dallas for that, and why would there be, when he'd been there too? when he'd seen the smoke from his car, when he'd been terrified they both had died?

they stand like that, ponyboy taking gulping breaths for a moment, dallas moving his hand away. his hand clenches, and it's him who's got to make amends here, so it's him who finally says, "i can shower." 

ponyboy gives a jerky nod. dallas moves around him, making his way through the house, to their room. there's that old anger in him, knotted firmly in his gut as he starts to strip down on the way to the bathroom. the clothes come with him, thrown into the corner as he reaches over to start the hot, scalding water. a few years ago and he would've punched something, and he has a half mind to do it here and now. 

windrixville just kept haunting them at so many moments. 

logically, he could stop it. working as a heavy for the mob, burning places down they needed to have burned down, could be a grunt job. he could leave. the rest of him that made good money on this, who did it when it was necessary and could count the costs of it, however, knew that leaving it to a grunt meant that there were always mistakes to be made. they always seemed to do something that indicated something to the feds that was incorrect, and it was annoying to deal with the ones who were already junkies. so dallas did it, like usual. did what needed to be done, how it needed to be done. 

he wouldn't stop. that had always been understood: he wouldn't ever get a job, he'd always do this work for himself to get the money they needed, to keep everything going. ponyboy knew it, and he kept his own nose clean just enough, accepted it. he wasn't going to force dallas to change, and neither would dallas. 

these moments though. these moments as he climbs into the shower, scrubs himself down with soap and a towel, just seem to crop up from time to time. there was never a way to completely get the smoke out, and dallas wouldn't ever flinch around ponyboy, wouldn't ever back down and sometimes-- sometimes--

"you're scrubbing the same spot," ponyboy's hand grasps the towel out of his hand, and dallas would kill anyone else who made him jump like this. he lets ponyboy take the towel, despite the scowl on his face. his glasses are off his face, lean body on full display under the spray of water. he smirks when he cleans the same spot, just to be a smart ass. 

it seems right for dallas' eyes to pluck out the burn scar on his shoulder first. to follow it up the lines of ponyboy's jaw, and for him to reach out with clean hands again and kiss ponyboy again. it's not a gentle kiss; it's tamer than normal, an acknowledgement, almost an apology that ponyboy doesn't have to accept. 

he does though, fingers finding themselves in dallas' hair, and the other on dallas' hip. his nails are sharp, exacting, and dallas hisses with the pain. he wants it as the scent of slick starts to fill his senses, and thoughts of anything else except the idea of ponyboy beneath him leave his mind. 

there's a bit of uncertainty as to who gets the shower off, but none to the fact that dallas picks ponyboy up clear off of his feet. ponyboy bites his bottom lip in retaliation, yet hooks his legs over dallas' waist anyway. the way to the bed is practiced -- five steps and he can throw ponyboy to the bed, look down at his lean body, at the way his auburn hair looks on the covers as dallas looks down at him. 

their eyes connect for a few moments, dallas' eyes picking out the scars from the years before: the one on ponyboy's knee from falling on the track; the one on his neck from the time the soc cut his neck; the ones that creep over his shoulder from windrixville; the scar on his palm from when he curly held cigarettes there, playing chicken. that hand is the one where the ring, the gold band that dallas had gotten a few years before, glints. 

he drags his eyes from it as he leans down, focusing on ponyboy's pale shoulder, opening his mouth instead to hook his teeth into skin there, into that creeping scar. his other hand reaches between them, automatically reaching between ponyboy's thighs, purposely ignoring his erection. instead, he presses a finger against his rim at the same time his teeth dig into ponyboy. 

it's always such a sharp noises he gives, and it always, always makes dallas all the harder. 

there's not much gentleness here and now, as his other hand grasps pony's wrist to pin him to the bed, and he pushes his fingers deeper, rougher. pony's producing enough slick to make it negligible, dallas' name already mixed with curses. 

dallas' tongue laps at the bite, mouth moving from his shoulder to ponyboy's ears, already red, face flushed, and he nips at them with a laugh as his fingers move quickly, teasing out, "you gonna cum that quick?"

ponyboy bucks beneath him, with another volley of curses that are lost when dallas kisses him again, and when a third finger makes his way into ponyboy, that's exactly what happens. the sounds he makes, the way he bucks into dallas as he orgasms spikes every alpha instinct dallas has all at once. he refuses to let up, moaning against pony's ear, fingers moving in ponyboy, trying to wring out every drop of an orgasm out of him. 

there's no coherent thought in dallas left when he pulls his fingers out of ponyboy. normally he'd tease him, purposely licking the slick off of his fingers, or cleaning some of the mess on ponyboy's stomach. not this night: one hand grasps pony's leg, the other grasping his own erection, and then there's nothing but the tight heat of pony around his cock, the hiss pony gives, and the feel of ponyboy's hands, his sharp nails scratching dallas' back and sides. 

there has never precisely been gentleness between them in these moments. there's always been more to ponyboy besides being a dreamer, with his head in his clouds. always that little glint to him that dallas had saw, had attracted him, and it comes out in moments like this as dallas grasps him closer, as his legs wrap around him, heels digging into dallas sharply, fingers grasping his hair tighter, hips meeting dallas' thrust in time. 

there's nothing gentle here in these moments, and it's what dallas loves. he loves the scratches, the bites, the way they're going to bruise each other for days. he loves it as he feels ponyboy moan and whine, another orgasm tearing itself out of him. that half fucked out look on his face, the flushed way he looks, the way ponyboy always seems to realize just before it happens that dallas is going to knot him, always seems to struggle for a moment to accept the stretch and then it just _happens_ , dallas orgasming, pony accepting the stretch with a strangled moan, and just the feeling of filling him, being tied like this. 

over a decade has passed since they first claimed each other. they've gotten married for less than romantic reasons (on dallas' end anyway), they've never strayed since, and still, still, dallas' mouth finds a way to bite the same place he'd bit pony years ago to claim him. still, ponyboy's fingers find their way into his hair, neck offered, accepting, wanting. 

it's easy to exist like that, tied together like this, dallas rocking inside of pony slowly, both of them all but boneless. they both drift in and out of sleep, one after the other, legs and arms tangling, never pulling away. eventually, dallas wakes up in the middle of the night, ponyboy asleep against his shoulder. dallas grunts; he's gone soft, and he shifts them in the bed a little bit better, refusing to get up just yet. 

kissing ponyboy's throat, licking at the still red bite works him up again, fingers running through ponyboy's hair, still so soft and tough looking. dallas reaches between them, finding ponyboy still just slick enough for dallas to slip back inside of him with a groan. 

beneath him, pony whines in his sleep. dallas sighs against his ear, nipping at the very tip. his hips work slowly instead of fast like before. pony feels just as good as before, as he always does like this. he keeps his hand in pony's hair, sometimes catching the glint of his wedding band in the moonlight. 

dallas pulls pony up by the hips, and this time when he orgasms, he's the one holding on as close as he can, the one tight on ponyboy's hips. there's only a small wish that ponyboy was awake for this, to hear him gasp and moan around the stretch. 

it's easy to fall asleep like that, minutes later. 

ponyboy's fingers are tracing his shoulder blade when dallas wakes in the morning. they're still tied together which isn't much of a surprise -- dallas feels spent, and he's sure ponyboy had woken at some time in the night again to fuck him again. he doesn't mind it; neither of them ever do. 

"never did get to read that book," pony grouses, still half awake from the scratchiness of his voice. his finger traces an old scar on dallas' back. "think you owe me, later." he clenches around dallas enough to tease him, not breaking his gaze when dallas leans up a bit to catch his mouth in a kiss. 

he looks forward to a quiet, easy day. no jobs to do, no coming home smelling of ash.

**Author's Note:**

> part of a larger au that i may or may not post more of. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ comments, kudos, questions, or requests for spooky szn ficlets please! also if you want to holler at me elsewhere, i'm on tumblr as @traumapeaks.


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